


Dearly Beloved

by hanekoma



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanekoma/pseuds/hanekoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Arthur speaks at a wedding, and 1 time he speaks at a funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dearly Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> Written for inception_kink for the prompt in the summary about a year and a half ago.

**i.**

Perhaps he'd had little too much to drink, or maybe it was how beautiful the pair looked as they smiled at one another with their fingers twined unabashedly on the table, but it gave him very bittersweet feeling of longing. Not toward the pair, but toward having that.

Arthur raised his drink, giving a cheers toward Cobb and Mal. "You are one lucky man, Cobb, finding such a lovely woman. And Mal, sorry you had to be caught by him," he joked. Yes, he did have a humor. Especially when he lost some of his inhibition.

Throwing caution to the side, he let himself relax, leaning up against Eames after he'd spoke. There was an odd comfort against him. All too soon, he found the other man's arm around him as he enjoyed the night filled with chatting and laughter.

At the end of the night, he may or may not have had some very nice and possibly rough sex with said man he'd leaned against. After all, he never would have admitted it to anyone.

**ii.**

This time, it definitely was because of the drinks. Cobb had convinced him he had to come to this godforsaken wedding. It wasn't even like he knew the man very well, but it seemed that the whole team was there. Even Fischer could be found mingling in the crowd.

So, in the midst of the mingling and the dancing of the party, Arthur climbed on a chair to get a superior perspective over Eames. He pointed his finger sharply at the man who had brought a date. "And you. To hell with you," he shouted, voice slurred more than he would have liked it.

With that, he hailed a cab outside and turned in for the night. "Bastard," he cursed out, chucking his shoe against the wall before crashing face-first onto his bed. The hangover was sure to be a bitch come morning.

**iii.**

Arthur's lips pressed against her cheek in congratulations. Sure, he and Ariadne had a brief period there where they had something akin to dating, but never could settle in. It was obvious their lifestyles were to different and something, or someone, was always on the edge of his mind.

Since then, their relationship evolved into something more like siblings. At times, Arthur felt like a protective older brother. Here was one of those times. He pointed his finger at the man who had bound himself to her. "If you ever hurt her..." he began, but was all too quickly cut off.

"I know. Mr. Cobb already warned me."

He huffed at that. Figures Cobb would get there first. Taking a step back, he raised his hand in a toast. "To one of the loveliest ladies I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, I hope you the best in love and life. We'll always be here for you."

Part of him wanted to avoid Eames the whole night, but found it increasingly difficult. Especially when he ended up hidden behind a set of curtains, pressed hard against the glass, being fiercely kissed.

Despite any half-hearted protests, he found himself escorting the other man to his home. One night turned to a week. Then two. And so on.

**iv.**

An elbow connected with Eames' ribs. "Shut up, Eames. This is not a wedding." It was a bit cold outside and he'd taken root by Eames' side, nestled in his jacket to share some body heat. Normally he would have buffered the offer off, but he figured that the corner they'd settled in would be ignored by most anyone aboard the ship.

He felt warm lips brush his ears, murmuring some sweet nothing. "Darling, let me enjoy my imagination a little," he responded, then began to hum a slightly off key version of Wedding March. The ring slowly slid onto his finger, the metal must have been warmed from having been in Eames' pocket just a moment back.

Turning his head, he gave Eames a sweet, gentle kiss. When Eames worked to push it a little deeper, he received a curt little bite on his lower lip. He leaned heavier against the other man, a tender smile on his face. "Aren't we supposed to exchange vows? Or at least say something on it?"

Light fingers traced along his neck, bringing out a soft noise. "Well, love, I thought you said this wasn't a wedding?" Eames countered with a teasing voice. "Besides, I'm far too distracted with my imagination to bother with that." The words were accompanied by feather soft kisses on his neck.

"Mm... Well, I would like to say that I am binding myself to one of the most infuriating men I've ever had the misfortune of knowing." Perhaps at some point, Arthur had meant words along those lines, but he was full aware that Eames would know the affection hidden there.

**v.**

When Ariadne had found out, she protested over the fact that they had done something in private. Arthur had tried to shrug her off and say it wasn't something he was interested in. He wasn't going to admit in front of a crowd to actually loving Eames. Those words were rare even in private. And usually came about when Eames was sleeping (or so he thought.)

Luckily the group was fairly small. It wasn't as embarrassing as he expected, but exchanging vows made him feel a bit naked.

"I want to thank you all for coming here today. Except Ariadne, who insisted this deplorable event occur," Arthur said with almost a sigh. Eames raised his glass in Ariadne's direction, who just happened to be shooting the pair a devious grin.

Even if he wouldn't say it straight out, Arthur was happy. He could obviously tell Eames was beyond thrilled, especially with the hand on his thigh - something that got a well-deserved smack, when it started to slide higher.

**epilogue.**

It had to be a dream. A dream that Arthur, or Eames himself, would gradual slip out of and back to reality. There was no way this could have been any form of the truth.

But no. The body had been burned. He watched Cobb carry the ashes to the edge of the lake. No large funeral procession. Just the team that had solidified themselves together, despite never having worked in that combination since. He didn't bother to look at any of their faces. He couldn't bring himself to.

That urn. Right at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to smash it. Destroy it. Make it look like how he felt on the inside. He couldn't, though. There was no strength left in his bones.

As he walked to the edge of the cliff with them, he shoved his hands in his trench coat pockets, shivering against the harsh wind. It looked like the sky could tear open and drench them at any given moment.

Everyone glanced over at Arthur, waiting to see if he planned to say anything, half-worried that he might do something crazy. "You were always such a selfish son of a bitch, weren't you?" Arthur muttered out bitterly. All the good times, all the bad times, they all felt like some distant dream.

He looked over his shoulder, giving a bit of a wry smile at everyone huddled behind him. "Not much else to say, is there?"

Ariadne slowly approached him, placing a hand softly on his arm. "Are you sure, Arthur? I mean..." She couldn't quite find the words she wanted, anything that might bring him a little peace. Only time would heal these scars.

"Yes, Ariadne. I'm positive." And with that, Arthur started to head down the trail just as the rain began to trickle down.

 

**bonus.**

After the initial seasickness wore off, Eames found himself wandering the deck. The cool breeze felt good on his skin. He was glad it only lasted a day, else this trip would have been a disaster. After all, he had Great Plans set up.

Now, though, he looked for his companion who had so heartlessly abandoned him this morning. His hand cupped over his eyes to shield from the sun as he browsed over the deck. Aha! There he is.

Sneaking up on the other man, he slipped his arms around him, chin resting on his shoulder. "You abandoned me," he pouted.

"I needed some fresh air." A sharp nudge to the ribs. Followed by a second one. "Room to breathe, please." As hard to get as ever, Eames noted to himself.

Before he pulled away, he blew lightly into Arthur's ear. "Only if you promise to come back to the room with me." He didn't receive any kind of verbal response, but got a slight nod from him.

~~~~

There wasn't any time for him to prepare as Arthur slammed him against the wall. Oh, did he love when the other man took it upon himself to be the aggressor. That is, he loved it either way he could get it, but it really excited him this way.

Even with the aggression and passion he could feel, he was amused by how meticulous Arthur still was with the buttons of his jacket and shirt, not wanting to damage a thread on it, so it seemed.

The thing that amazed Eames the most about Arthur was that he could make this seem so calculated, but so wild at the same time. It was a paradox, much like the ones Arthur seemed to obsess over in his dreamscapes.

Just the right angle with those fingers and with just the right amount. It was never the same as before, and always drove him a bit mad. The sheets would take heavy damage from gripping so tight.

Gasps mingled with moans, both voices lost as to what sound belong to who. Eames prided himself on his stamina, but it never failed that Arthur could drive him to the edge first when the positions were as such.

In the afterglow, there was always this slight vulnerability that Eames felt, but never quite admitted to. It was strange how the other man could always shake up his soul and make him lose his footing on reality.

Maybe Arthur knew, though, with the way his fingers stroked through Eames' hair, almost reassuringly.


End file.
